


Domesticity

by CosmicFlora



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Sick!Crowley, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 11:00:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19208014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicFlora/pseuds/CosmicFlora
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley are just starting to figure things out as far as their relationship goes. One thing's for sure: they'd do anything for each other. Even if it means Aziraphale has to take care of a demonic drama queen with food poisoning.





	Domesticity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [taylor_tut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/gifts).



“These are brilliant!” Crowley remarked, working steadily through a plate of steamed oysters.

“Oh I’m glad,” smiled Aziraphale. He was enjoying a lovely salmon himself. “I can’t believe you’ve never tried them.”

It was their third date, if one were to start counting from the end of the Apocalypse. Aziraphale and Crowley had always been “an item” in the human sense of the word. But to them, this relationship was a new and delicate thing, and quite exciting.

They lingered over dinner, enjoying wine and conversation for some time after cleaning their plates. It was just after closing, when the owner began pointedly clearing his throat and casting grumpy glances their way that the pair took the hint and strolled outside, Aziraphale blushing shyly as Crowley wrapped an arm around him.

\---

Unfortunately for our lovebirds (but fortunately for our story), the pleasantness of the evening only lasted as long as their walk to the Bentley, when Aziraphale asked.

“Are you alright, dear? You’re shivering.” Crowley rubbed at his arms, giving his date an incredulous look.

“Well yeah, it’s bloody freezing out here. Aren’t you cold?” A confused and comfortably warm Aziraphale frowned at him.

“I do wish you’d bundle up more. You get chilled so easily.”

“Not that easily,” Crowley protested lamely, climbing into the driver’s seat. It was even colder in there. Aziraphale dropped the subject and took his own seat beside Crowley. His partner was sweating, gripping the steering wheel with whitened knuckles and shivering even harder than before.

“Crowley, what is it? You’ve gone pale as a sheep.”

“That’s ‘sheet’,” Crowley huffed. His stomach made an ominous noise and he gingerly rubbed at it as a wave of dread passed through his entire body. Or maybe that wasn’t dread. Aziraphale put a hand on his shoulder, alarm mounting.

“Crowley?”

The demon squeezed his eyes shut and groaned.

“Ohh my stomach…”

Before Aziraphale could respond, Crowley had lurched out of the open door and hit his knees on the asphalt, bringing up his dinner all at once. He didn’t realize Aziraphale had joined him until he felt someone rubbing his back.

“It’s all right,” the angel soothed. “Better out than in.” Easy for him to say. Those oysters had been expensive. But, Aziraphale was right; Crowley did feel a little better after throwing up. This is to say he was utterly miserable. “What on earth brought that on?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley shrugged, hugging his middle unhappily.

“Thrice damned oysters…”

“We’d better get you home, dear. Can you stand?” Crowley did his best but Aziraphale had to support most of his weight as they stood. The demon made a pained noise and buried his face in his partner’s warm shoulder.

“Angel, I don’t feel so good.”

“I’d imagine not. Why don’t you lie down in the back seat and I’ll drive this time?” Crowley pulled back in shock.

“You serious?” Aziraphale tried not to look offended.

“Well, why not? I’ve watched you drive for years and I know all the rules. How hard could it be?” Crowley didn’t have the strength to argue.

“Well, alright, Angel. But I’m sitting up front.”

\---

Aziraphale did alright behind the wheel, Crowley had to admit. Though the demon knew he wasn’t helping much by asking him to pull over every few minutes. His body kept finding more to expunge and he spent a great deal of the trip hunkered over in the grass or a back alley, cursing oysters, chefs, fishermen, and whichever bastard Above or Below who’d invented shellfish. Aziraphale did his best to tow the line between concerned hovering and respectful distance, somehow correctly guessing whenever Crowley was ready to stagger back to the car. All told, it took a solid hour to get home.

Crowley was warm to the touch, much to Aziraphale’s concern, and so weak by now that he could barely lift his head. He didn’t even seem to notice when the car stopped for good and Aziraphale opened the door for him. The angel reached in and carefully extricated his sick dinner date from the car, pulling him protectively to his chest. Dizzy and nauseous, Crowley whined at the change in equilibrium.

“Sorry dear, I know you’re not feeling well.” Aziraphale murmured apologies as he carried his longtime “adversary” bridal style into the bookshop. Of course he had attempted to miracle away this sickness but by now it was obvious he would have to do things the human way. “Here we are. Time for bed and maybe some tea if you’re feeling up to it.”

He wasn’t feeling up to it, at least not yet. One tentative sip triggered another bout of retching that lasted for several minutes until his empty stomach finally gave up the fight and Crowley collapsed exhausted against Aziraphale’s side.

“Right,” the angel said. “We’d better not try that again for a while.” Crowley’s head lolled against Aziraphale’s shoulder and the latter could feel the heat radiating from the bony frame. He felt Crowley’s forehead and neck, startled by how much his temperature had already risen.

“God, you’re burning up! I’m so sorry, dear. If I hadn’t suggested that bloody restaurant...”

“Not your fault,” Crowley reassured him, slurring a bit. “I was whinging about trying something new.” The angel summoned a cool, damp cloth into his hand and began urgently bathing Crowley’s face with it.

“Let’s get you into bed.”

“Ssuch a tease, Angel,” Crowley chuckled. The poor boy must have been delirious. Aziraphale tutted and carefully lifted his patient into his arms once again, carrying him to the bed and stripping off his jacket and boots. He rewet the compress and gently washed Crowley’s face, lingering over his forehead and flushed cheeks. A waste basket stood near the bed just in case, but Aziraphale doubted Crowley had anything left in him.

The semi conscious demon moaned softly and drew his long legs in, doubling up in pain. Aziraphale’s free hand ghosted over Crowley’s narrow belly in soothing circles. Even if he couldn’t wish this sickness away, he was determined to bring comfort in any way he could. The angel could sense the tension leeching from Crowley’s body under his touch, a soft exhalation escaping the demon as he drifted into a deeper sleep. So far, so good.

Aziraphale’s next concern was how to combat those terrible chills. Blankets were all well and good but Crowley was still shaking like a leaf, the poor thing. An idea came to the angel with the snap of his fingers and a heating pad miraculously appeared in his hands, already toasty.

He pulled a corner of the blanket back just long enough to cover Crowley’s tummy with the pad, smiling fondly as the sick serpent immediately curled his body around the newfound warmth. Aziraphale replaced the blanket and draped a fresh compress across his forehead, praying earnestly for the fever to break.

\---

The night passed slowly but uneventfully. Aziraphale was grateful at least for that. Crowley slept like a rock and around 3 in the morning, his temperature began to fall. We can forgive Aziraphale for dozing off a couple of times during his vigil. If Crowley had been awake, he would have fussed at the angel to stop worrying so much and come lie down. But he wasn’t and Aziraphale didn’t, at least not yet.

Crowley awakened slowly sometime in the morning to find himself alone. He was wrung out and his belly hurt but Aziraphale had kept the heating pad nice and hot and the serpent hugged it to himself appreciatively. Where was his angel anyway?

No sooner had he wondered that he heard Aziraphale bustle into the shop, the rustling sound of packages accompanying him. Crowley kept his eyes closed a few minutes longer and only opened them when he heard the familiar footsteps approach.

“Good morning, dearest. How are you feeling?”Aziraphale asked, feeling his forehead. “You still look awfully peaked.”

“I’m alright,” Crowley yawned. He was rather disappointed when the cool hand on his brow withdrew. “Just don’t feel like moving much.”

“You need to rest today and probably tomorrow,” Aziraphale nodded. He held out a teacup, steaming invitingly. “I’ve picked up some ginger tea for you. The shopkeeper said it’s just the thing for upset tummies.” Crowley had to smile at that, accepting the cup with enthusiastic, if slightly shaky hands.

“Thanks, Angel.”

In the end, the tea did help, and Crowley began to feel just a little more like his usual demonic self. He would never admit aloud that he was enjoying Aziraphale’s fussing. The angel, for his part, was simply relieved that his ministrations were helping.

Sometime in the afternoon, they were both feeling understandably sleepy and it didn’t take much for Crowley to convince Aziraphale to join him under the covers.

“Pleeease, Angel? I don’t feel very well.” How a serpent could manage such effective puppy eyes was beyond angelic comprehension. But Aziraphale smiled, removed his shoes and coat, and slipped under the blankets with his favorite demon.

It surprised Crowley just how much he had been craving this. Not the food poisoning, but the real, quality time with Aziraphale: the warmth of the comforter, the strong arms encircling him. It was like a little slice of Heaven. Oh good gods below, was he blushing? Aziraphale frowned and pressed a kiss to Crowley’s forehead.

“You’re still a bit feverish.” Maybe he was but that was alright. Right now, he was just where he wanted to be.

“Sorry for messing up our date,” Crowley mumbled into Aziraphale’s chest. The angel ran gentle fingers through his auburn hair.

“Now, don’t be silly. You haven’t ruined anything.”

“I definitely ruined oysters for me.” Aziraphale chuckled softly.

“I know how independent you are, my dear, but you must let me take care of you once in a while. After all, you’re always looking after me.”

“It’sss a deal,” Crowley murmured, drifting back to sleep. “But next time…let me pick the restaurant?” Aziraphale laughed, a sound his love felt more than heard.

“Deal.”


End file.
